The Best Man
by Lily Brennan
Summary: A PhantomCount of Monte Cristo crossover. Erik is framed for treason and imprisoned for fifteen years. He returns to find his fiancee married to his best friend, his father dead, and his entire life taken away. EC. R&R please.
1. Chapter 1

The ship charged proudly through the salt water of the calm blue sea. Christine could only just spot it breaking water on the horizon, and already her heart beat a thousand times faster.

"Erik." She whispered happily. She tapped the ceiling of the coach with her knuckles. "Faster, please! As quickly as you can!"

She heard the clicking of hooves on cobblestone increasing their speed, and felt a thrill run through her. So near to him after six long months spent apart! She felt that she would never again experience such a rush of happiness and peace. He was safe, and he had come back to her, just like he had promised.

Erik slapped Raoul on the back jovially.

"Did you see his face? He's royally upset."

Raoul mock-glared at him. "Yes, I did, and it's all your fault."

"You followed me every step of the way, Raoul. Do not deny it." Erik smiled.

Raoul finally returned the smile. "I do not. But you must admit, it was a blasted stupid thing to do, rushing onto a patrolled island and yelling to the guard. You almost got me killed."

He set down the glass of rum he had taken a swig from onto the sturdy wooden table between them. They were in the deceased captain's quarters, awaiting the call that would tell them when they neared the shore of their homeland.

"Ah, but I saved you at the last minute, didn't I? I could have sworn the bullet flew far off to the right. Nowhere near you!"

Raoul ignored him. "And all of it to save a captain who despised me."

Erik sobered quickly, and spoke with the utmost seriousness. "He was my friend, and a good man. I will forever regret his death and that I could not prevent it."

Raoul glared off into the distance for a moment before a smile returned to his pointed face.

"Very well, Erik. My apologies. I know you held respect for the man, though I will never understand it."

"Was he not also your captain? Did you not respect him? Regret his passing even in the least part?"

"He was my captain, yes, but I am not ashamed to say that I held no more regard for him than I do the letter carrier who reports to the manor each week."

Erik shook his head. "Sometimes I think you unfeeling, Raoul. I worry that you will do something you will regret if you continue with your uncaring attitude for others."

"You wound me, Erik, and do yourself a great disservice. How do you remain friends with such a wicked man? Sheer force of will?" Raoul drawled sarcastically.

"Yes. I believe so."

Both men laughed, though Raoul's laughter was quiet and short lasting. After taking a swig from the bottle of rum before him, abandoning the empty glass, Raoul stared at Erik.

"You think of nothing but her, do you." It wasn't a question, more an acknowledgement. At Erik's questioning look, he continued. "I don't blame you, friend. If only I could find such a woman as you have, I would be a happy man."

Erik smiled and his eyes focused on a spot on the wall, dreamy and unfocused. A shout sounded through the cabin, and Erik jumped from his seat, running out of the room to see the shoreline he had missed those many months of sea travel. Raoul stayed behind and drank the rest of the rum, smiling grimly.

"A very happy man indeed."

A/N: R&R please!


	2. Calm Part One

Chapter One

Calm Part One

"Raoul! Where is Erik?" Barely sparing the man a look, let alone a moment of her time, Christine scanned the crowd, searching for her fiancée. Shielding her eyes from the harsh glare of the mid-summer sun with a thin-fingered hand, she ignored Raoul's grumbled response and didn't see his displeased scowl.

"Lovely to see you too. He's gone for questioning at the port master's office, but he said he'd join us at the rocks. Come on."

He grabbed her arm, and they navigated their way through the crowd of people milling around the cobblestone roadway, running toward the craggy rocks that lined the coast, Christine with her brown hair bouncing around her heart-shaped face, and Raoul with his clean-shaven face holding an expression of petulance that she could not see.

He led her down Grace Church Street past Collier Lane, and soon the bustle of the harbor was nothing but a distant echo in the background, drowned out by the calming cry of seabirds and the scent of salt-spray lingering in the air. Christine breathed deeply the scents of her childhood, memories floating through her mind at a leisurely pace. It was at the rocks, on a day very much like that one, just before he had shipped off on his first voyage, that Erik had stolen her first kiss. She smiled, ignoring the tug of Raoul's insistent hand on her arm. Such beautiful memories…

"Christine!" Raoul shook her arm lightly. "Are you still alive in there? Erik should be arriving soon, and you don't want to look like you're in a trance. Do you?"

She raised her eyes to the sky and rolled them, her head following their example, until her gaze landed on Raoul.

"Of course not. Don't be silly, Raoul." She looked out towards the sea. "Besides, Erik would not care if I looked foolish. He is far too kind for that."

They sat down and Raoul leaned back and rested on his elbow, facing Christine's right side.

"I can be kind." He said matter-of-factly. "If that's what you'd like."

"But I already have a kind man to stand at my side. What more could I want?"

"So much more." He raised his right hand and began gently stroking her arm.

She frowned and shook her head.

"No one would know." He tried to persuade her.

"I would know." She replied simply, her face determined.

He pulled his hand away.

"Why do you do this, Christine? Torture me in this way? How long will it be before he can afford a wife?"

"Two years. Just two years until he's a captain and we'll be married."

"Two years is an eternity to wait. We could be married right away, if you wished it."

She smiled softly, obviously unaffected by his words.

"Do you remember," she asked, "when we were young, and Erik got his first instrument?"

"A flute of whistle or some rubbish like that." He wasn't angry that she had ignored his protestations; she always did.

She nodded her head in affirmation.

"And do you remember what you got?"

"I can hardly be expected to-"

"A pony, Raoul. Your father got you a pony, and Erik's father gave him a whistle. But you were so angry that Erik was happier with his whistle then you were with your pony, that you refused the gift you had been given and tried to take Erik's away from him." She paused and looked him directly in the eyes. "I'm not going to be your next whistle."

He frowned and leaned away from her as he pushed himself to his feet. A movement from behind a wall of stone caught his eye, and he forced a smile onto his face.

"Erik, old friend."

Christine got quickly to her feet and waved to him. "Erik!"

"Captain!" Erik shouted. Running straight to Christine, he picked her up and twirled her in a circle, both of them laughing and smiling. "They made me captain!"

"No more waiting?" Christine's eyes were misting over with tears of joy. "We can finally be officially engaged?"

He nodded happily, setting her back on the ground and turning to Raoul.

"What's the matter, Raoul?"

"Captain," he said without emotion. "Congratulations."

Erik's happy state dissipated, and the smile faded from his face. "What is the matter Raoul?"

"Nothing, nothing." He smiled, though there was a strange, almost unsettling quality to it. "I will see you tomorrow, friend."

He turned and walked towards town.

"Raoul!" Erik called. Raoul paused and glanced back at him. "You're still the best man."

He smirked half-heartedly in response. "I know."

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A/N: Thank you so much for all of the reviews! I appreciate them so much. They inspire my muse to work longer hours. Haha. Sorry for the short length. This chapter is about eight or so pages long, so I broke it down and I'm posting it this way. It seemed simpler at the time, though if you want it all at once, let me know and I'll post it that way. Then you also won't have to wait as long to read more. Thanks to everyone who added this story to their alerts and favorites.

Until next time,

VW


	3. Calm Part Two

Chapter Two

Calm Part Two

Erik watched his friend sulk away with a worried expression. He looked down at his fiancée, whom he still held loosely in his arms.

"He's been like that almost the entire voyage. I thought it was just homesickness, but…" He sighed heavily. "I wish I could help him."

Christine smiled up at him and hugged him tightly, resting her chin on his chest.

"You are a good friend, Erik. Raoul does not deserve you."

He shook his head, taking her chin in his hand.

"Please, do not say that, Christine." His face lit up and he smiled widely. "Besides, it does not do to dwell on such depressing things as my choice in company, my dear. It will never improve your countenance, lovely though it is."

She tapped him playfully on the arm, and laughed. "You always know just how to improve my mood, Erik. It's uncanny."

"It is, isn't it?" His smile became softer and his green eyes danced in the low light of the evening sun bouncing off the sea. "I have missed you so much, Christine." He hugged her tightly and rested his face in the crook of her neck, breathing deeply the scent of the woman he would love for the rest of his life. He never felt more at home than when she was near him, and he hoped the feeling wouldn't fade with time or distance.

She giggled quietly. "How sentimental you sound, Erik."

"I know. Very unlike me," he teased, "to be take the opportunity for romanticism. Enjoy it while you can, my dear."

Their banter was interrupted when a large drop of clear liquid decided to take a rest on Erik's cheek and trail down his jaw. Then another landed on Christine, and another still fell on his aquiline nose. Soon, rain was pouring down from the heavens upon them, and Erik took her hand as they ran to the secret cave where they had shared their first kiss.

As soon as they had settled within the cave, Erik against the most comfortable corner of the cavern wall, and Christine resting her back against his chest, they resumed their conversation.

"I hate summer storms. They come so suddenly and leave so slowly." Christine grumbled good-naturedly.

"I love the rain," Erik whispered.

He moved out from behind her and started a little fire a few feet away with some dried seaweed and timber that they had left there at some other time. He returned to his position, his arms wrapped around Christine, as close as they could get, drowning in their wet clothing. The damp air hung around them like a thin veil, pervading their senses with the smell of wet rock and rain on the sand.

Christine's eyelids were growing heavy, but she stubbornly clung to consciousness.

"Did you really mean it when you said we could be officially engaged?" She asked, yawning.

Erik chuckled, a deep, throaty sort of thing that sent shivers down her spine. "Of course I did, dearest. All I need is a few months to afford a ring, and-"

"I don't need a ring!" At Erik's look of disbelief, she continued forcefully. "No, I really don't. It's just a material thing. I can be perfectly happy without it."

"But you deserve one, Christine."

She propped herself up on one arm and sighed, looking him in the eyes. Then she reached down and fiddled with the hem of her cream colored skirt. Her hand came up holding a piece of thread, and she twisted and twirled it until it was wrapped tightly on the ring finger of her left hand.

"This will be my ring." She smiled softly. "I don't need anything else. I only need you."

Erik returned her smile, and leaned towards her.

"Then you shall have me."

The next evening, in the humble, cozy dining room of Erik's home, Christine, Erik, and his father Jean were just sitting down to supper when Erik said something of import that went unnoticed for a very brief, but heartbreaking, time thereafter.

"Raoul and I went ashore at Elba."

His father looked up from his plate, surprised. "Did you, now? What was it that warranted this possible loss of life and limb?"

"The late captain Warrens had the brain fever set upon him. We were trying to get him ashore for treatment, but sadly our efforts were for naught; he died a few short hours later."

Christine heard the regret staining his voice, and reached out with a soothing hand to cover his own. The wooden table felt rough beneath their fingers, as if it needed a good polishing, and the plates were chipped and cracked in places, but neither one of them seemed to notice or care.

A/N: Oh my goodness, thank you SO MUCH for all of the reviews! This is part two of the Calm chapter. I really hope you enjoy it, and please keep the feedback coming! 'Tis the food of inspiration!


	4. The Storm Part One

Disclaimer for all chapters:

I own nothing. Not Phantom, not Count, and certainly not the name Erik Destler. -**Cries**-

A thunderous boom sounded throughout the small room, and the front door suddenly burst open, shattering the peaceful moment. At least seven soldiers crowded through the doorway, pistols at the ready, and looked threateningly at all seated. Erik quickly stood, while his father and Christine sat in stunned silence.

"What is the meaning of this?" He asked, setting his napkin on the table.

A tall soldier stepped forth from the group, obviously the captain. "Which of you is Erik Destler?" He demanded, looking from Erik to Jean and back again.

"I am," replied Erik, looking confused.

"You are hereby arrested, Monsieur." Said the captain, motioning to the two men on either side of him. They surged towards Erik and grabbed him, forcing his arms behind his back and handcuffing him.

"Wait! Wait!" Yelled Christine. The men paused, and she ran to Erik's side. "What are the charges?" She begged the tall man.

"That information is privileged." Replied the captain coldly. "Take him away!" He ordered his men.

"No!" Christine cried, trying to hold on the Erik as long as she could. One of the soldiers shoved her forcefully away, and she fell to the floor, sobbing openly. "Erik."

--

A short, jostling ride in a prison-cart rubbed at his already raw nerves. Erik stared out the barred windows, sure that there was some mistake and that he would be released soon. He was simply worried about Christine and his father. The cart smelled of old rice and urine, an unpleasant experience to say the least. He could hear the hoofs of the horses pulling the cart pounding the stones of the road, lulling him into a sort of calm. Everything would soon be set aright.

The cart slowed to a halt, and two officers appeared and opened the cart door, ordering him out. Both of them sneered at him as he obediently climbed out, still shackled. He wondered what in the world he had done to deserve their hateful looks. They each grabbed one of his arms at the elbow and dragged him towards a ship that was docked nearby. A ship that Erik recognized.

"No." He said faintly. "No! There has been some mistake!" It was the ship that took prisoners to the Chateau D'if; the cruelest island prison known to man.

--

Erik stood before the prison-master, hands bound with thick rope, slouching with fatigue from the long voyage to the Chateau D'if.

"Monsieur Basth," he began, "I know that you must hear this all the time, but, I truly am innocent."

Basth chuckled darkly. "Have you any idea with what you have been charged?"

"No Monsieur."

The jailman rifled through some parchment that was laid out on his desk. "Treason." He said pulling a paper up and reading it.

"I am innocent!" Erik exclaimed, shocked.

"Not according to this." The other man motioned to the document he had been holding. "But I believe you." He smiled grimly. "I really do. You wouldn't be here if you weren't."

"Will- Will you release me then?" Erik asked hopefully, daring to believe it.

"Of course not." The jailer sneezed. The air was cool and damp, so it was little wonder. "But I do have a welcome present for you."


End file.
